1000 Days at the Chateau- chapter 14&15
by Jacqueline Boutade
Summary: Valentine shares her attentions with father and son but Alain is not happy and in a vile show of power allows his friends to indulge their animal desires with her. She is brutalised by them. But Guy rescues her, taking her home at last. But she is again pregnant and this time shame and despair led her to attempt to take her life, this time Mathilde cannot forgive the marquis


One Thousand Days – Chapter 14 – Boys' Games

It was clear that Alain and Bernard had come to an agreement. Monday to Thursday Bernard came to her bed. Friday and Saturday night Alain arrived, leaving Sunday free. She did not complain, it was not her place and while she preferred her own sort of loyalty, to be with one man at a time, she knew that in the wake of her night with Alain things inevitably would change. She would have been saddened to lose Bernard to Alain. In her brief time with him she had become fond of him: he was a gentle man, a sad man whom she came to feel comfortable with. She was a comfort to him and that gladdened her own sad heart. Alain was not like his father. He was a selfish lover, intent on his own pleasure, intent on proving himself in some imagined contest. She never spoke of one man to the other. She was, as ever, discreet and compliant. She flattered both and made them feel as if they were a king amongst princes. She considered her work a kindness, and wondered what the marquis would make of this if he knew. As she fell asleep of an evening she wondered if he still thought of her. If she would ever return to the chateau, or if this was the end of the contract and here she would remain?

Of a Sunday she went to church and sat with Marie-Claire and Anton, hoping no-one knew of her duties at the farm-house. She remained in the kitchen with Cook, helping with meals, sometimes cutting and arranging flowers for the house. She did not interact with either Bernard or Alain during the day, other than as an ordinary maid would. She was quiet and efficient and found contentment in simple things. She was teaching herself to live once more as a peasant, to make herself useful and to learn as much as she could from Cook, as her future remained uncertain and a matter of fear if she dwelt on the matter for too long.

She was happy to be in church with the members of the farm community and beyond, saying her prayers, singing, listening attentively to the priest's sermon. She took confession but was circumspect in her telling. She did not know this priest as she did the one at the chateau and even though God did, she was not comfortable revealing her true self to this young man. She confessed her unworthiness, her sinning heart and asked forgiveness which was duly given. In her heart she spoke to God as she always had, truthfully and humbly but more convinced than ever that he had turned away from her.

She returned to the farmhouse with Marie-Claire and Anton, enjoying the stroll and their company. It was one of the few chances she had to talk to her only friend in this place. A few yards in front of them Alain walked with Nathalie which made her more tolerable around the house. Valentine did not enquire as to Alain's sleeping arrangements with the other girl, but insisted as part her relationship with him that he was to treat her well, so as not to draw attention to herself. It seemed to work as Valentine could discern no evidence to suggest she was being gossiped about. Cook was happy to have an extra pair of willing hands and made no comments about anything at all, let alone Valentine and the men of the house. Although Valentine was sure Cook had noticed the lighter foot fall of the farmer and his decreased wine consumption.

Unusually Alain was waiting for her at her door as she returned from church. 'Make yourself pretty, we're going riding. I assume you can ride, given all your other talents?'

She went to protest, as Sunday was her day, but caught a look in his eye that stopped her. There was an edge to his voice that he had not used with her since their first night together. She was suspicious of his motives but what could she do? What story had he told Nathalie?

It was a fine day for riding and she had not been on a horse for some time so took pleasure in that. She rode as a lady and Alain kept his horse alongside her. She concentrated on enjoying the ride, in being outside in the fresh air, in being away from the house for the first time since she had arrived.

'We are going to meet my friends,' Alain informed her. 'I have told them so much about you that they wish to see you for themselves.'

She shivered beneath the sun, a heavy sense of foreboding in her belly. This morning she had felt ill preparing for church, perhaps it had been her body warning her of ill-times to come? But she smiled and nodded at him. 'As you wish.'

'You are not to disgrace me,' he said fiercely. 'I do have some standing in these parts, my father's farm is rich and valuable and I will inherit it someday. I expect you to enhance my status this afternoon.'

They rode on in silence past the tiny village to a field where a hayshed sat in a corner and Alain's friends were gathered by a clump of trees nearby, their horses tethered and them standing around laughing with jugs of wine at their feet.

'Oh my,' exclaimed one as they arrived. 'Alain, you old dog. I behold the Venus. Look, my friends!'

Valentine smiled shyly at the half dozen young men gazing at her. Alain helped her from the horse and introduced her to each one, taking their hands and bowing. There was an air of rough refinement to them such that she guessed they too were like Alain and farmers' sons, or merchants' sons rather than farm-hands. They had an air of arrogance, of entitlement that told her they thought very well of themselves. They sat around drinking the wine, which she declined, chatting, admiring her but not including her in the conversation. She did not mind and relaxed a little as she listened to their stories.

'I do agree,' announced the one who called her Venus, 'you have quite a problem, Alain. How will you solve it?'

Another friend inquired as to the nature of the problem and Valentine pricked up her ears, sensing she was the heart of the matter and the reason she was here.

'My friends, my father and I are sharing the pleasures of this lovely maid. It is a good arrangement that suits us well. But my father wishes to marry her and secure a second son, but only if the marquis permits. I too would like to marry the maid and establish my own dynasty.'

Valentine arranged her face very carefully. She held her hands behind her dress, so that the men could not see them shake. Would the marquis let her marry one of these men? Was that the plan? Her time was nearly up and she would be doomed to a life with these two. Either one would be unbearable while the other was in the house. Surely the marquis would not allow this to occur? She looked to the heavens, if this was the plan then God had finally abandoned her. She smiled softly, hoping that the afternoon would not get worse. She guessed Bernard did not know she was here.

'So flip a coin for her,' said one.

'Challenge your father to a duel,' said another.

Alain shrugged his shoulders. 'The problem is then one of us will suffer. Once she is married she cannot lie with the other. Either my father will be cast out or I will be. There cannot be a happy ending.'

'Why not remain as you are?' his friends asked.

'The desire for a son is strong in all of us, my friend, especially when you have such a beautiful woman to breed with.'

His friends nodded in assent, quiet for a while as they pondered his problem. Valentine's feeling of unease grew as their silence engulfed them all. She sensed this had been a masquerade for her benefit, to lead them all to a particular point.

'But will she make a good wife, Alain? A lover is one thing, a wife quite another.'

'How can I tell?' he asked. 'What should I look for in a wife?'

His friends smiled at each other. 'Between us we know a little of women. We could help you.'

Alain stroked his chin in mock thought as if considering something serious. 'How can this be done, my friends?'

Their smugness was too much for Valentine to bear. She wanted to scream, get on her horse and ride away as quickly as she could, but she realised the men were sitting very close to her and one had his hand resting lightly upon her ankle. She was trapped. But she displayed no emotion, as she hadn't in the past. Her countenance remained calm and innocent, as if she had no idea of their evil intentions.

'We must each try her out for you and give you our considered opinion.' They all smiled and nodded.

Alain nodded his head thoughtfully. 'But I must watch, gentlemen to ensure you trial her effectively.'

'It is agreed,' they shouted getting to their feet, dragging Valentine to hers, slapping each other on the back at the excellence of their plan.

'You have deceived me,' Valentine hissed to Alain as she was led to the hay-shed.

He shrugged. 'You are little more than a whore, be grateful I don't have you whipped for sleeping with my father while you sleep with me.'

'Who shall go first?' They cried.

Alain pointed to his best friend, a tall young man with straw coloured hair. 'Jacques. But worry not friends, she has great stamina, you'll all get a turn, perhaps even two!' He threw her on the hay and ripped her clothes apart with such force that her corsets were split exposing her breasts. He tore her bloomers from her, pulled her legs apart and stood back to gloat over her. 'Look at this, my friends feast upon her.'

Valentine tried to get up from the straw, scrabbling for her bloomers. She covered her nakedness with her arms. She looked from one leering face to another and was frightened. She was miles from anywhere with a pack of savages. She could scream all she wanted: no-one would hear her, no-one would come. Alain instructed another friend to restrain her and thus she was pulled back to the ground, her arms pulled above her head and her wrists were held in a vice like grip. Alain and his friends stood around, smirking at her helplessness.

Jacques wasted no time in niceties. He had become hard just looking at her nakedness and falling heavily upon her, pushed into her roughly, hurting her as she was anything but ready for a man.

'She is too tight,' he complained, pushing in and out in an entirely perfunctory manner. 'Just like a wife!'

'Worry not,' said Alain. 'She will be open enough for your next turn.'

Valentine resisted Jacques in every way she knew, pushing her hips to try and throw him, if not from her, then to disturb his rhythm, to spoil his pleasure. 'No,' she cried out. She was angry and afraid and knew there was only so much fight in her. These arrogant young men needed to know she was not a willing participant in their horrid game. This was rape; they were raping her. It mattered not that she had had many lovers before, that she was shared by Bernard and Alain. Those things were with her consent, such as it was, given the marquis' commands. But this was without consent, this was against her will.

Jacques pulled himself from her. 'I cannot see your reasons for marrying her,' he said. 'She is as resistant as a mule.'

Alain laughed. 'Come Robert, I am sure she will be more compliant for you.'

She was more open in the wake of Jacques' gaucheness and so Robert found it easier to slip inside her. She was still held by her arms and moved her hips to protest but it was more like her usual rhythm of sex and she could feel Robert falling prey to her instinctive charms. He bent to kiss her but she turned her face away, so he bit her throat instead. 'Insolent bitch.' He moved forcefully in her and was soon spent.

Hubert was in as soon as Robert was out. She put up no resistance, letting her body respond as it wanted. Hubert sighed and moaned above her, articulating his pleasure for his friends. 'She is wonderful,' he announced as he left her loose and languid on the ground.

Jean-Luc and Paul made the most of Valentine's capitulation and took their time, even kissing her open mouth and touching her breasts. They seemed to be making love to her, not simply fucking her. She felt something die inside but kept her face impassioned. She would not cry, she would not show them her fear, her loathing, her shame. Somewhere in the midst of the pain she felt herself move out of her body; found herself looking down on her body as if it belonged to another, as if it was some stranger there prostrate on the ground being brutalised, not her.

Alain let Jacques go again before he took his turn. Valentine lay on the straw like a broken doll. Her eyes were glazed and her limbs like water. The need to hold her down had long gone: she had no energy left in her. All her fight, all her passion was spent. She let them do what they wanted. She felt nothing, cared less. Jacques took his time this time, squeezing her breasts, though he dared not kiss her, moving himself in and out of her slowly, with no urgency. She was loose but still responsive. She was wide open but still warm and wonderful to be in.

She was barely moving when Alain took her. Her body was finished, her legs open and raw, her breasts bruising from their rough hands. It hurt when Alain moved into her. Although she was wet and sloppy, with juices dripping from her, he hurt as he moved into her. He was fierce, stabbing into her. She was raw, bruised and broken. She whimpered and turned her head to the straw, feeling the tears waiting to be released. She forced herself to stop. She held herself completely still as he moved above her, his eyes glinting with malevolence. 'Who is the master now?' he snarled. 'Who is your master now, bitch?'

Outside an elegant horseman had stopped. He had been riding through the countryside admiring the day, the lands, and heard the commotion from a distance. He rode closer to investigate such frivolity on a Sunday and found the men gathered round some activity in the hayshed, heard their cheering and shouting as he approached on his horse. One of them, Jean-Luc, noticed the gentleman's footsteps and broke off from the entertainment to speak to him.

'What is happening here, young fellow? Some jollity, I surmise.'

Jean-Luc nodded. 'It is farmyard fun, sir, a young peasant girl who has given us an afternoon of pleasure and delight.'

The gentleman nodded, dismounting from his large black stallion. 'Is this a normal past-time in these parts?'

Jean-Luc shrugged. 'She is a rare beauty and well pleasing. I'm sure she would be pleasing even for one such as you, my lord.'

The gentleman brushed him aside as he approached the group. Valentine saw him and winced in pain, her shame complete. She closed her eyes as the tears came and so did not see the look of pure rage on his face as he took in the scene and realised what was happening. He pulled Alain from her, throwing him brutally to the ground.

'How dare you?' Alain began, struggling to find his breeches, his face purple with rage.

'How dare I?' exclaimed the marquis. 'How dare I?' He brought his riding crop down hard on Alain's naked shoulder. 'What sort of animals are you?' He hit him again, the other young men scattering behind him, suddenly extremely aware of who the gentlemen was and what he could do to them if he wished. 'This is not how you repay my kindness. This is not how you treat a woman.'

He knelt over Valentine, touching her gently on her cheek, removing some straw from her tangled hair. He wrapped Valentine in his riding cape and gathered her into his arms, avoiding her eyes, her tear stained face. He lifted her brutalised body onto his horse. He turned to Alain. 'You will pay for this. You and your friends and your father. You will tell your father what you have done, how you have insulted me by your actions and how I will have my revenge.'

Alain's friends scrambled for their clothes and belongings scattered in the hay. They dared not look at the marquis. He glared at all of them. 'None of you shall escape my wrath. No man standing here will be free of the shame of this day for as long as I live.' He felt Valentine's body shivering against him. 'You have made an enemy of the Marquis of Chatillon, you and your families and you will forever pay for what you have done. I swear.'

The marquis settled Valentine into his arms as he left the scene of her shame and set off at a gentle pace, his own shame and guilt a heavy burden on his heart. 'I am so sorry, my Valentine. So terribly sorry. We're going home now. I'm taking you home and I'm never letting you out of my sight again. I swear I'll never leave you again, never ask you to do anything you do not choose to do of your own volition. I have been so wrong, so foolish, so terribly foolish.'

She heard his soft voice, his soothing words and wanted to believe him, wanted to feel safe again, wanted to be in her bed at the chateau with him loving her. But her heart was too bruised, her body too pained, she could not believe him. She heard his words but that's all they were: word without meaning. She let them wash over her, resting her head against him, letting her mind go blank, as she had done during those terrible hours, so she did not have to think. She only needed to be. Home, she thought, and a tiny glimmer of hope stirred in her heart.

One Thousand Days- Chapter 15 – Home

When Valentine awoke she was not certain as to her whereabouts. It took some time to recognise the light coming through the heavy curtains, the softness and warmth of her own bed, the smell of roses and fire in her room. She felt the pain in her body and the sickness in her belly. She knew she was far from safe. This time she knew she was with child; had known for a little while. She also knew irrefutably that it was not the marquis' child, that it must be Bernard or Alain's. She felt sick to her soul. Again, a child without a father she could claim for it. She remembered the pain of losing the other child and wept. What was she to do? She could not go through that again but she did not want this child either. Life was too cruel: once she would have done anything to have the marquis' child, now she wanted never to have children, nor did she want to see the marquis. She held her belly: could she feel the life stirring there? Did it want her as a mother? Would it want her as a mother if it knew what sort of a woman she was?

She turned her head from the soft light creeping into her room. Sadness weighed heavily on her heart. She would pray, go to the chapel as soon as she felt she could walk unaided and ask for guidance and forgiveness. She could not ask God to remove this child too, it would be too much. Besides, now she knew absolutely that God had forsaken her once and for all. She could not blame him.

Valentine remained in her room for ten days, resting and recovering from her ordeal. She ate little but was determined not to lose all her strength. She was considering alternatives, a way to deal with her problem. But first she needed to be well enough to walk the small distance to church to make her peace with God. She needed to speak to him, even if he did not wish to listen to her.

Mathilde and Sophie escorted Valentine to church on her return to regular services and sat close by her side, helping her to her knees for prayers and holding her steady on her feet as she sang softly. Valentine was happy to sit towards the back, quietly with God, well away from the marquis sitting stiffly alongside his mother in the front pew.

The priest listened to her sadly, absolved her of her sin and privately asked God what sort of world it was where he let such things happen to an innocent girl, for the priest thought of Valentine as innocent despite all that had happened to her. Women, in his limited experience, had little control over their lives, even the marquise was not in charge of her destiny, so what hope a pretty peasant girl? The priest prayed especially for Valentine, to help her through her troubles, although this time she had not confessed the growing child within her. She told that secret to no-one, not even Mathilde.

'I am sure God is happy to have you back in his house,' Mathilde smiled on their short return to the chateau from the chapel.

'God is infinite in his forgiveness,' Sophie agreed, holding her friend's hand tightly as they walked.

'I have missed you both so much,' Valentine whispered. 'I am so lucky to have you as my friends.'

'Just get well,' Sophie said.

'Yes,' agreed Mathilde. 'God has heard you. You are forgiven and now you can return to health. It is what we all want.'

Valentine glanced to where Guy and Elise strolled ahead of them. 'Do you really think so?' She recalled the last time she had been ill and how kind he had been and then how quickly his kindness had turned to cruelty.

Mathilde squeezed her hand. 'I am sure he wants you as you once were. In the times when you were healthy and devoted to him.'

Valentine snorted. 'I cannot imagine ever being that girl again.'

'Time heals all wounds, my dear,' Mathilde offered.

'I don't think there is enough time in the world for me,' Valentine sighed.

'You're just tired, my dear,' said Mathilde. 'You need to rest, then the world will seem a better place.'

'Yes,' agreed Sophie. 'I will fetch some food and then you can sleep all afternoon and you will soon feel your old self again.'

That afternoon, after Sophie and Mathilde had left her in bed, supposedly sleeping and went off to tend to their own business she slipped from her rooms and wandered over to the stables, where it was peaceful and there was no sign of Rene. Sunday was the day many of her friends had time to themselves, even Rene spent some time away from his beloved horses. Unnoticed by many, as she was dressed in the borrowed clothes she wore for Pierre, she found one of the stallions was already saddled. She mounted up and at a gentle trot headed out across the fields away from the chateau.

At first the horse liked the lightness of his mount, the easy way she sat on him, but he was used to more forceful control and as he realised she did not have the strength to contain him he ran on faster and faster, going where he pleased. He sensed no panic in his rider, no spurs in his side, no whip upon his flank, no tension in the reins. And so he ran and leapt across fences feeling no urgency to stop or heed his rider, who maintained her neutral position astride him. Then at one high fence he felt a lightning and heard a dreadful thud as his mount fell to earth. Chastened he stopped and somehow sensing the drama of the situation turned and raced home, where a distraught Rene awaited him and soothed him as he settled back into his stall.

Rene ran to the house to inform Jacques that the marquis' favourite stallion had returned. He was greeted by the news that Valentine was missing and quickly the two men realised what must have happened. Wasting no time they saddled up and rode out in search of her, fear pounding in both their hearts.

Valentine was lying on the ground completely still. Neither Jacques nor Rene thought she was alive but closer examination revealed a shallowness of breath, a tiny pulse. She looked like she was sleeping but she was lying heavily on her back, her head tossed to one side, her arms flung out.

'I am frightened to move her,' said Jacques who had seen the result of riding accidents before. Jacques threw his cape across her as she was already too cold. 'You must ride with all haste back to the chateau to summons the doctor and return with a cart, something to take her home in. Bring two men so we can lift her.'

Rene looked puzzled. 'But I could lift her now, Jacques and take her back on my horse.'

Jacques shook his head. 'Rene, you should know we cannot move her without risk of permanent damage. We must lift her as she lays and rest her on a flat surface. Now ride and pray the doctor is not far away tending to a birth.'

Jacques prayed himself as waited with Valentine, holding her small hand in his, whispering to her, willing her not to die before help came. Too well he remembered the last riding accident: he had been the first on the scene then too. Only that time he knew there was nothing to be done. He squeezed Valentine's hand, willing her to live. He did not want to have to explain this to the marquis. How had she taken his horse without being seen? Where was Rene? There would be hell to pay for all if she died. Not to mention the sadness that would fall upon them all.

The doctor was at the chateau by the time the cart returned from the field. She was taken with care to her room and laid gently on her bed. Mathilde and Sophie hovered, taking directions from the doctor, who examined Valentine with care, understanding the importance of his task.

He spoke to Mathilde in confidence. 'Nothing is broken, so that is good. However, I cannot say for certain that all will be well internally. She may have damaged something in the fall that is yet to show itself. She fell heavily but seemingly distributing the impact evenly. There will be some dreadful bruising.' He sighed sadly. 'But I cannot guarantee the child will survive. It was a terrible fall. I cannot even guarantee she will survive yet. If her will is strong and God is on her side.'

Mathilde held her surprise in check, she was meant to know everything about Valentine but had missed the signs. She nodded, she was not sure about God anymore, but she understood Valentine's actions. She was either trying to end her own life or the child's and though she knew it was a mortal sin, Mathilde could not blame Valentine for what she had tried to do. The poor girl, how desperate she must feel, how hopeless, to have done such a terrible thing.

The doctor left instructions and promised to return the next evening to check on any progress. Mathilde could tell from his eyes that he was not expecting things to be any better. 'Pray,' he said. 'It is the best thing you can do.'

Sophie and Mathilde took it in turns to sit with Valentine. Rene called in to tend the fire and sit with her awhile. He blamed himself for not tending the marquis' horse better and allowing such a terrible thing to happen. The doctor came and went. Valentine moved in and out of consciousness and nothing seemed to change. He checked the movement in her fingers and toes to ensure she was not paralysed and felt for organ damage but nothing changed. The baby hung on, and the doctor shrugged. 'Time will tell. Pray.' His advice was the same every day.

Then in the afternoon, just like the last time, a scream rent the room in two. Valentine clutched her belly in agony; the baby was leaving. Valentine was too weak from her fall and too damaged by it not to hold the child safe within her womb. It had been knocked free and despite trying to hang on it could not. It was as if it knew it was not wanted and left. Mathilde cried as she ordered Sophie to get towels and hot water once more. She was as much afraid this time as last that they would lose Valentine as well. She cursed the marquis loudly, as well as the farmer and his son. Mathilde was afraid this baby, this humiliation would be too much for Valentine and this time they could not keep it hidden from the marquis. Perhaps it was as well that she died too?

It took a day and a night for the baby to leave. All the time wracking Valentine's body with pain. A body only just recovered from its brutality at the hands of Alain's friends, now not strong enough to cope with this miscarriage and the fall. As she fell back against the pillows with the bloody remains between her legs Valentine took several shallow breaths and stopped breathing. It was as if all the air had gone from her and she lay there completely still, her eyes closed.

'Run!' Mathilde screamed at Sophie. 'Fetch the doctor.'

Sophie froze. 'It will be too late, mistress. She is gone already. Surely I should get the priest?'

'Just do as I tell you, girl. Run!'

Miracles are still possible and as Sophie opened the door the doctor was there. He rushed to the bedside. Listened to her heart, which he swore he could still hear beating, if terribly faint. Or was it that he wanted to hear her heart? Her breathing had stopped, there was no rise and fall of her chest. He had one technique only, and he was not sure of its efficacy but there was nothing else he could do. He opened her mouth and leant his to hers and breathed in. He closed her mouth and waited, holding her nose, while counting to ten. Mathilde prayed, while Sophie looked on in horror. The doctor repeated the procedure, forcing all of his breath into Valentine. Nothing happened, although he could still discern a very faint heart beat. Once more he opened his mouth over hers, pushing every drop of air out of his own lungs, such that he fell back on the floor, faint from effort. He wrung his hands in despair. It had been a long shot but he'd felt sure he could bring her back.

Valentine's eyes fluttered and she gave a small cough. Sophie screamed. The doctor found his feet and could not believe his eyes. Valentine was breathing, she was breathing! Mathilde hugged him and he kissed her cheek.

'A miracle,' Mathilde said. 'I prayed and God sent us a miracle. You are a miracle worker.'

Outside the room the doctor spoke in hushed tones. 'I see the child has been lost. Perhaps it is for the best. It will give Valentine a better chance of recovery. But my dear Mathilde, she is very weak. You must do all you can to get some nourishment into her. I might suggest small meals but often. Encourage her to sit up in bed and perhaps next week we can see her take a few steps around her room.'

Mathilde nodded, agreeing with everything the doctor said. But she knew the illness in Valentine's body was nothing to the illness in her heart and soul. She was unconvinced that he could fix that.

Once the news of the baby had spread Mathilde was summonsed to the marquise. Elise was pacing her room, clearly terribly upset by the things she had been hearing. She invited Mathilde to take refreshments with her.

'You must tell me all that has happened,' Elise said. 'The marquis will not respond to any of my enquiries. Besides I believe he does not know the full story. Am I correct? Are you the only one who knows everything?'

Mathilde bowed her head. While she didn't know the full details of Valentine's time at the farm she knew about the father and the son and the terrible afternoon when the marquis rescued her and brought her home. Valentine had not spoken of her ordeal and Mathilde had not pressed, instructing Sophie to say nothing.

'My lady, it is not my place to speak of such things.'

Elise glared at her. 'No, that is true. But this is no longer a place where decency and society and God seem to exist. I do not know my household or my son. Someone needs to speak so that whatever nonsense is happening in my house is ended now. Is it true she nearly died?'

Mathilde nodded.

'Well then, enough. You must speak, Mathilde.'

'Very well, my lady but it is an ugly story. I will be truthful but I am not sure where it all begins. Perhaps from the moment the marquis left Valentine behind when you went to the Prince's wedding. Perhaps when he shared her with his friends? I am uncertain but I know she once loved your son and was happy to comply with all his commands not minding when they offended her own decency. She was convinced he had a reason for all he did and if she complied well enough he would love her too.' Mathilde smiled. 'Naive little thing but he has been kind to her and there have been times when I thought he might have feelings for her. While you were at the wedding she sickened. I thought she was pining for the marquis but we discovered she was with child.'

'Another child? Mathilde, I thought you were taking care of Valentine.'

'I was, madam. But if I may be so bold, a body that has so much copulation is in want of procreation. Valentine's body wanted a baby, I couldn't stop it. But she didn't know whose it was. It was after she had been with the marquis' friends, as well as him, so she knew not who the father was. It filled her with shame and despair and we prayed to God to help us and he took the child away.'

'You told no-one of this?'

'No, madam. Only Sophie and the priest knew. Oh, and Rene who is utterly devoted to her. We all swore not to tell. And then you returned and suddenly the marquis wanted Valentine to have a child. She was not fully recovered from the miscarriage and her body was not ready to seed another child. It was the wrong month and when her bleeding came he turned on her. Then he treated her with such contempt I wanted to hit him. It was terrible to see her humiliated with the gardeners from Paris and then for him to lie with her and make her cry. Then he sent her away, as you know and those terrible things happened to her at the farm on the edge of the estate. And again another baby, another child she did not want, whose paternity she could never confirm.' Mathilde stopped. She found she was crying. 'I thought the marquis would be good to her, that the reason your family takes these girls is to have sons, spare sons to ensure the estate. I'm sorry, madam but your son has been despicable to Valentine and she is such a sweet girl.'

'That is enough, Mathilde. You cannot speak of the marquis like that. He is my son and your master.'

Mathilde bowed her head. 'I am sorry, madam, I forgot my place. Do forgive me.'

Elise sighed. 'This is a terrible tale, Mathilde and I do, sadly, believe you. I also understand your outburst about my son. You have cared for this girl as if she were your own daughter and so you feel her pain as your pain. So you must understand that I feel my son's shame as my own. I do not understand what has happened, why he has treated her so poorly. I sense his friends' influence here but that is no excuse. He should know how to behave honourably. God knows, Gerard was a callous fool but he behaved better to...'

Mathilde nodded. 'But that ended badly too, madam.'

'Indeed, Mathilde. We cannot let this end badly. We cannot return to the days of the Crusade when our men shamed our family name. We must do something for Valentine. I must do something for her.'

Mathilde took a sip of coffee, relieved of her burden of secrets. 'If I may be so bold, madam?'

'A plan, Mathilde?' Elise waved her consent to proceed.

'Rene is devoted to Valentine and he is a good and kind man. He will be promoted soon and run the stables. She could be very happy with him.'

'She cannot return to her village, I agree,' Elise nodded. 'She will not wish to remain as the marquis' mistress, not once he is remarried. Yes, Mathilde, it is a good solution.'

'But will the marquis allow it?'

'I will ensure he allows it, providing it suits both Rene and Valentine. Let's have no more forcing this poor girl into untenable situations.' Elise passed a plate of delicacies to Mathilde. 'Will she recover though? I am concerned after all that you tell me that her spirit may be broken, that she may have ridden that horse out on purpose to do away with herself.'

Mathilde could only nod her agreement. Would Valentine recover, would she want to be matched with Rene: what was to become of her as her thousand days expired?

14

14 


End file.
